


The Big One (Seaborne and Roach)

by Old Mythical Beast (OldMythicalBeastOfColor)



Category: Rhett and Link
Genre: Child abuse implied reported and stopped, Classic Chevy El Camino, Fishing, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hotlinks to Help below chapter 6, Melancholy, Mention of cancer, Ridiculously Trivial Stake-Outs, Skipping Church, Various illegal and suspicious activities happening, don't spray mosquito repellant on your fried chicken, everybody needs a hug, girl scout cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldMythicalBeastOfColor/pseuds/Old%20Mythical%20Beast
Summary: Even the most ridiculously trivial case could lead to something bigger. So they've heard.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Back when they were trying to start a restaurant together, right out of high school, Seaborne was Roach’s best man. It’s been a decade. The restaurant failed hard: the sappy sweet marriage lasted until death did them part. It was years ago. They don’t talk about it.

One: Lost

An early spring afternoon somewhere in the Southern USA: the first really warm Sunday of the year. We see an old county road heading through a hilly forest, just outside of town. Trees blossom, birds chirp, insects whir, distant dogs bark. Every half-mile or so, yellow road signs advertise leaping deer, but the white placards attached to random trees all forbid hunting, with large red letters. 

Roach, dressed in outdoorsy blue denim and brown flannel, ambles through tall weeds and low scrub alongside the road’s shoulder, heading towards town. He has a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache, yellow-tinted wire-rimmed glasses, and a black baseball cap which hides his wavy blonde hair. Today, he’s wearing a large white wildflower, possibly some kind of lily, with its long stem stuck in through his plaid shirt’s top buttonhole. His face wears a distant look.

Seaborne, dressed in his Sunday best (a navy blue suit, pale blue dress-shirt, red cufflinks, and multicolored striped silk tie) drives up in the iconic vintage Chevy El Camino, pulls over, stops, and opens the passenger door. Seaborne sports a short, artistic-looking goatee, and his long dark hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. 

Roach, mind clearly elsewhere, doesn’t stop walking. 

Suddenly, Roach notices Seaborne and the car. He turns and gets in, leaving his baseball cap on.   
Instead of re-starting the car, Seaborne loosens his tie.   
Roach gazes downwards, removing and wiping his glasses. 

Seaborne: When I didn’t see you in church this morning, I remembered.  
It would have been ten years today, wouldn’t it?

Roach: Yeah.

S: How are you doing?

R: Better. (He puts his glasses back on.)

S: Do you want to talk about it?

R: No.

Crickets. They look at each other for a moment and Seaborne starts up the car.

S: We’ve got a new client. Nothing big, no hurry. Want some dinner, or head back to your place? 

R: Well, I - (his phone rings in his pocket) Hold on a second, this could be important.

Seaborne turns off the car’s engine and looks on with concern while Roach answers his flip-phone.

R: Hello? …Hi Sheriff! ...Yes, I did. …Not at all. …I thought that was you I saw out there this morning. Any luck?

Roach, still listening on the phone, covers the mouthpiece and whispers to Seaborne: It’s the Sheriff. 

Seaborne nods and whispers back: I know!

R: The Big One, eh? Nice weather for it. …Did you catch him? ...Sorry to hear that. …No kidding! That’s bad. …Need some help? Because I know just what to do. …The sooner the better, that’s right.

Roach covers the mouthpiece and whispers to Seaborne again: He’s hiring us!

R: Right away. Glad to help. ...Completely confidential, of course. …We won’t call, we’ll just bring it over. …When, not if, we get it. We will get it back for you, count on it. …Okay. See you later, Darryl. (Hangs up)

S: “The Big One”? Darryl went after The Big One this morning? Nice weather for it!

R: He said he almost got him too, but then he lost his balance and tipped his boat. 

S: Oh no! Is he alright?

R: He’s fine, he didn’t go overboard, but his rod and reel did. That’s the main thing: it was a really nice rig, a gift from his kids for Father’s Day last year. He couldn’t stay any longer looking for it, he had to get home for dinner when his family got back from church. So we’re going to find it for him.

S: We are?

R: Yes, he’s hired us for a search-and-rescue special. I’ve done it before, I can show you how. No diving necessary. I know exactly where he was, too, because I saw him out there when I walked by the lake this morning. We can swing by my place for my gear and head over to the lake right away, the sooner the better. He said we can use his boat. 

Seaborne starts the car and does a gravel-spraying U-turn from the shoulder back onto the county road, heading back into town.

S: Seems like yesterday Darryl was working for us, and now we’re working for him.

R: He’s the best Sheriff we’ve had around here since your granddad retired.

S: He’s always been a go-getter. If anyone catches The Big One, it will be him.

R: Guys have been going after that monster for years. I don’t think anyone will ever catch him. I think he’ll live a full catfish life, father generations of monster catfish, and die a natural death of old age.

S: Catfish? I heard it’s a sturgeon. I heard it’s the same monster fish that capsized my granddad’s boat that one time, back when he and his three brothers were boys. He’s never stopped talking about how they nearly had it, but it got away.

R: It could be the very same fish, if it really is a lake sturgeon. Those things live forever. But I don’t think we have them around here: I’ve only ever caught catfish in that lake.

S: Nice day for fishing, anyway.


	2. Dragnet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculously trivial search and rescue ensues, while a new case waits in the wings.

  
Two: Dragnet

Same day, one hour later: Seaborne and Roach are sitting in the Sheriff’s fishing boat, a green skiff tied in the shade of five pine trees growing right up out of the water near the middle of the lake. Seaborne is still wearing his navy-blue suit pants, now tucked into tall green rubber boots borrowed from Roach. He’s down to his white t-shirt on top, with a bright orange fishing cap, also borrowed from Roach. Roach is dressed exactly as before, but the big wildflower in his flannel lapel looks a little wilted. Each man is leaning slightly out from of his own side of the boat, each sweeping something very slowly through the water.

Seaborne listens intently, gazing softly into the lake depths: Roach has decided to talk about it, after all.

Roach (With many pauses): …We used to come out here for picnics every week, the whole year she was in remission from the cancer.  
Sometimes, when the weather was good enough, we’d eat out here twice a week.  
Ever since then, fried chicken has never tasted quite right to me, unless it’s seasoned with… just a little… just a very light misting… of mosquito repellant.

They both laugh, but not a lot.

They each lift something from the water: Roach has a chain stringer (a long chain with metal loops for stringing up a catch of fish) attached to a length of rope. Seaborne has a long-handled net. They both disentangle weedy plants from their gear, toss the smelly greenery out of the way into the boat, and dip their equipment back down into the lake slowly, trying not to cloud the water.

Seaborne: Nothing yet.

R: I think I see something: Shine the light down here on my side of the boat.

Keeping the net ready in his left hand, Seaborne picks up a flashlight with his right, and shines its beam down into the area that Roach is slowly and methodically sweeping with the chain stringer.

R: So what’s this new case you were going to tell me about?

S: Hush, you know it’s bad luck to talk about a new case in the middle of a different case. We’ve got to solve this one first!

R: At least tell me how you got a client on a Sunday, if it wasn’t an emergency.

S: One of my Mom’s old friends cornered me right after Sunday school with her long tale of woe, which actually boils down to a short tale of petty disputes and jealousy. It’s stupid: I’ll fill you in on our way back. Right now, I just want to focus on finding this thing!

R: If it was so petty, why did you agree to take the case?

S: I couldn’t get out of it honorably, since she paid us a retainer.

R: She already paid us?

S: When I shook her hand “goodbye” she slipped cash into my hand and vanished into the crowd, leaving nothing behind her except money, mild resentment, and a cloud of gardenia perfume.

R: The old money-hand handshake trick. How much?

Seaborne, spotting something: Just a minute, what’s this?

Seaborne reaches down with the net and pulls up a dripping five-pack of Sprite cans (one ring is empty).

Roach, smiling: That definitely fell out of Darryl’s fishing boat today: anybody else would have had beer.

S: We must be really close!

They go back in with their tools.

R: I think I feel something catching… shine the light right over here again… there, see it?

Roach slowly brings up his rope, which brings up the chain stringer, which brings up a fancy-looking fishing rod draped in weeds. Seaborne catches the reel end with his net, and they swing the whole thing safely up and over and into the Sheriff’s boat.

Seaborne and Roach set everything down, high-five each other, and untie the skiff. They start rowing back to shore.

R: So, now you can tell me. How much did our new client already pay us? And what’s the case about?

S: Ten bucks, Girl Scout Cookies. Our stake-out can start tomorrow afternoon, if you’re up for it. It’s in a pretty shady neighborhood.

R: Well, ten bucks is ten bucks. (thoughtfully) I like Girl Scout Cookies.

S: Who doesn’t?

R: But the question is, do we get any?

S: (Raising one eyebrow): Maybe.


	3. A Pretty Shady Neighborhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We re-join our intrepid heroes in the middle of yet another ridiculously trivial stake-out. Check out Seaborne's new hairstyle, though.

Three: A Pretty Shady Neighborhood

The next afternoon. Seaborne and Roach are staked out in the Chevy El Camino, parked on the shady side of an upscale residential street.

Roach, in the passenger’s seat, is eating orange chicken and rice from a white cardboard Chinese food take-out box, using his own shiny black chopsticks with great speed and efficiency. He is wearing khakis, and, over a plain white tee, like a jacket, an unbuttoned yellow shirt with a flying bird print. His wavy blonde hair, freed from the oppression of a hat, reaches skyward with wild abandon.

Seaborne, in the driver’s seat, is eating hot-and-sour beef and noodles, carefully using the cheap wooden chopsticks that came with the meal. He is wearing a buttoned-up electric-blue shirt, a black tie, and black jeans. His long dark hair is still pulled back in a ponytail, but now it is also tightly french-braided front-to-back, six neat rows, all the way down. Each of the six braids in his ponytail ends in three multicolored plastic beads. On one side of him, a large white paper bag is wedged between him and the door. On the other side, between Seaborne and Roach, is a take-out drink-holder with two hot teas and two iced lemonades.

Roach (between bites): Good thing this neighborhood has so many shade trees: it would be unbearably hot in here otherwise. This unseasonably sunny weather just isn’t ending.

Seaborne (also still eating): I don’t mind it. ...It was good to see Darryl again. His daughter did a great job with my hair, don’t you think?

R: I’m surprised you left all those braids in.

S: I kind of like them. Do you think I should keep this style?

R: I don’t know, does it hurt? Because it looked kind of painful.  
Pretty solid work for a nine-year-old, though.

S: They are pretty tight. I might need help getting them out later.

R: Okay. (Finishing his meal) Did you get fortune cookies?

S: Of course. (Holds out the paper bag) There’s four: take two.

R: (Putting his fancy chopsticks in his shirt pocket, annoyed) You could have just handed me a couple.

S: No, if you touch one first, you have to open it. That’s how it works.

R: (Grabbing two cookies) You really believe that? You do know fortune cookies aren’t even from China, don’t you?

S: (Finishing his meal) No? Where are they really from then, Sweden?

R: (Unwrapping a cookie) These were invented in California. They were based on a traditional Japanese tea-cake, but some Chinese restaurant owners copied the idea, changed the recipe, and mass-marketed it for their own use. In American Chinese Restaurants, only.

Roach cracks open his cookie and reads the fortune. “Love is closer than you think.” He puts the paper in his pocket, eats the cookie, and opens his second one.

Meanwhile, Seaborne unwraps one for himself, and using his wooden chopsticks, attempts to remove the fortune paper without breaking the cookie.

Roach reads his second fortune out loud: “Happiness will find you. Lucky numbers: 555, 5, 55, 5555.”

S: Isn’t that the Sheriff’s phone number?

Seaborne successfully pulls his fortune out of one end of his unbroken cookie, and reads it aloud: “You will help someone today.” Hmm!

R: That sounds promising! But how does spying on our client’s neighbor’s grand-daughter while she sells Girl Scout Cookies door-to-door, to find out if she is somehow cheating, just because she always comes in first place for cookie sales every year, while the client’s grand-daughter only ever comes in third, at best, how can that possibly help anyone? It’s not only petty, it’s potentially illegal.

S: I told you it was petty. But ten bucks is ten bucks. And we’re just staying in the car and surveilling the whole street, like we always do. We’re not stalking Girl Scouts, just observing their sales methods.

R: What are we even looking for? What would cheating even look like? People either buy the cookies, or they don’t.

S: Well, anyway, if we get lucky, we could score some Tagalongs for ourselves.

R: Or Thin Mints, or Samoas.

S: Or Do-Si-Dos.

Seaborne pops his intact fortune cookie into his mouth, whole, crunches down, and begins extracting the narrow slip of paper from his second cookie.

R: I’ll never understand why you bother to do that so painstakingly carefully, when you’re just going to eat them anyway, and they can’t help but shatter in your mouth.

S: You know why. It’s the same reason you only eat Chinese food with your own fancy chopsticks, even though every meal comes with a perfectly good set for free.

S and R (simultaneously): It just tastes better this way!

(That had been the slogan of their long-ago failed restaurant. They pick up their lemonade, together raising a toast to its memory, and to much better memories that came after.)


	4. Scouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can two very tall private investigators in a very conspicuous vehicle keep themselves from being detected by the same enterprising individuals they've been hired to watch?

Four: Scouts

About an hour later, the same car, the same street, the same afternoon. Seaborne and Roach are still parked in the same spot, but the shadows are longer. They are sipping the hot Oolong tea they got from the Chinese restaurant.

Suddenly, a station wagon pulls up some distance away, on the other side of the street, and two girls get out. The driver stays in the car and rolls down her window. The light girl is wearing a Girl-Scout uniform complete with a green beanie secured atop her long brown hair, and the dark girl is wearing a Brownie uniform, complete with a brown beanie fixed to her flowing black cornrows. They both carry clipboards. They go up to every front door on the street, one after the other, starting with the big house on the corner. They take turns being the one to ring the doorbell, and then being the one to speak first to whoever answers. Not everyone answers.

Meanwhile, inside the Chevy El Camino, Seaborne and Roach are still talking.

R: Well, there she is, our client’s neighbor’s top-cookie-sales grand-daughter, but she didn’t come alone.

S: Of course not, someone had to drive the station wagon!

R: I mean she’s got the Sheriff’s daughter as backup. That is Jasmine in the Brownie uniform, isn’t it?

S: It sure is, I would recognize my new hair-stylist anywhere, even with that clever disguise. This development complicates our case significantly.

R: We should have expected something like this: Darryl did mention that both Jasmine and Jeremiah are scouting now. They’ll spot us for sure.

S: (Holds up a Classic Car magazine and pretends to read it, while still watching the street). Just act natural.

R: (Opens up a Natural Health magazine, and holds it up in front of his face, while also still watching the street). I still don’t know what it is we’re looking for out here. Maybe we should just casually question them on their sales methods, when they inevitably come over and talk to us.

S: Good, good. I like that. So when they come and ask us what WE’RE doing here, we’ll expertly avoid their probing questions, ask our own, and find out exactly what it is THEY are doing here… thereby earning our client’s fee and discharging our responsibility to this case.

R: Except we already know exactly what they’re doing here: they’re selling Girl Scout Cookies. (Pause)  
How come the Boy Scouts don’t have cookies?

S: I don’t know, you and I were never in Scouts. But my pen-pal Pierre-Lamont was. Did you know that over in Europe, they have the boys and girls all together in the same scout troops? It’s not even controversial.

R: Do they have cookies?

S: No.

(They both turn pages of the magazines they’re holding up.)

R: I think it’s amazing that you still write to your pen-pal from seventh-grade French class. I think I wrote three letters to Philippe, but I only ever got one back. He had very good handwriting, and he liked football.

S: Maybe they moved house. You could have signed up for a new pen-pal.

R: I didn’t think it was worth it. Anyway, I passed the class. Still, it’s been what, almost 20 years and you guys still write to each other every month?

S: _Certainement, et oui, ça en vaut la peine_ (Certainly, and yes, it’s worth the trouble). You know how I stick with the things I like. (Seaborne looks directly at Roach, who is still looking out at the street over his magazine.) I don’t give up on people.

R: (Turning toward Seaborne, smiling, and putting on a bad French accent) But your French, _mon ami_ , it sounds _tres_ terrible! You have a dixie drawl! With so much practice, how is this even possible?

S: At least I can read it! It’s not like Pierre-Lamont and I ever talk on the telephone. Too expensive.

R: Uh-oh, they’re headed our way. I think we’ve been caught. Try to look inconspicuous.

Seaborne and Roach simultaneously hold up their magazines in front of their faces and slouch down lower into their seats.

S: (Whispers) Keep it professional, and remember the plan!

 


	5. Suspicious Activity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuteness and fluff. Also, What goes on behind closed doors in this pretty, shady, upscale neighborhood? Our fearless heroes discover more than they ever expected.

Five: Suspicious Activity

(Moments later, same car, same street, same characters.)

The Girl Scout and the Brownie approach the driver’s side of the Chevy El Camino, where Seaborne and Roach are still hiding their faces by pretending to read magazines. The taller girl taps on the glass of the partially open window. Seaborne and Roach put down the magazines, nonchalantly looking toward the girls.

Rosa: Hello, sir!

Seaborne (Rolling his car window all the way down): Hello, ladies! Can we be of any assistance?

Rosa: Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?

Jasmine (interrupting): Hi Mr. Seaborne! Hi Mr. Roach! This is my friend Rosa. (Whispering loudly, to Rosa): They work for my Daddy!

Seaborne: Hello, Jasmine! Hello Rosa, very honored to meet any friend of Jasmine. (They shake hands through the car window). Jasmine’s my hair stylist.

Jasmine (to Rosa): I told you, and you didn’t believe me! (To Seaborne) You kept them in! Can you please put your head down, so she can see them?

Seaborne bows his head to show off his french braids to his short audience.

Jasmine: (To Rosa) See? I did those yesterday and they’re still good, and his hair is just as straight as yours.

Rosa: (to Jasmine) I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Can you really do mine like that?

Jasmine: (to Rosa): Yes, but I can make it look nicer. (To Seaborne and Roach) Are you on a stake-out right this minute?

Seaborne: Maybe.

Roach: We’re not allowed to tell you that, ladies.

Jasmine: Are you working for my Daddy today? Is that what y’all kept whispering about, over at our house yesterday?

Seaborne: Maybe.

Roach: We’re not allowed to tell you that, either.

Seaborne: (Conspiratorially) You’ve visited every house on this street, have you ladies seen any suspicious activity?

Rosa: Ooh, I hope you’re not after Miss Margaret. She’s got her 95th birthday coming up next month, and there’s going to be a big party.

Jasmine: My Daddy won’t arrest Miss Margaret! Everything she grows is for personal use.

Rosa: It’s not for HER personal use, it’s for her son, Mr. Davis. He’s the one in chemotherapy.

Jasmine: It doesn’t matter, he lives there too.

Rosa: Well please don’t report them, they’re my best customers. They always buy enough boxes of cookies to last all year long. Every flavor except Coconut. I think they fill up three cupboards AND those two chest freezers that Mr. Davis used to use for venison.

Jasmine: We told them how all the cookies just came in Saturday, so they can send Junior over to Rosa’s house with the truck.

Rosa: Their order never fits in Mama’s car.

Jasmine: You know who you should really watch out for? Miss Violet. She keeps way too many animals in her house. It can’t be good for them.

Rosa: She must have at least fourteen dogs, and who knows how many cats- I’ve never seen the same three twice. And, she never buys any Girl Scout Cookies.

Roach: Which brings us back to the most important unanswered question of all.

Rosa and Jasmine, together: What question?

Roach: You asked us if WE wanted to buy any Girl Scout Cookies, but we didn’t get to answer.

Seaborne: The answer is YES, yes we would.

Rosa and Jasmine smile broadly and hand their clipboards to Seaborne and Roach.

They each fill out an order sheet, with great seriousness and deliberation. While they are writing, Jasmine pulls a folded-up envelope out of her pocket.

Jasmine: I just remembered, I have something for you. (She hands the letter to Seaborne). It’s from the girl in that big house on the corner. It looks like a letter or something. She pointed at your car when she gave it to us, and then she just shut the door again without saying a word.

Rosa: She didn’t say anything to me last year, either.

Jasmine: She’s about our age, but I’ve never seen her in school.

Rosa: She was holding a baby when she answered the door this time: it might be her baby brother, but he doesn’t look anything like her. Maybe he’s adopted.

Jasmine: There’s no stamp on the envelope, just some writing.

Rosa: We speak Spanish at my house, and I can’t read it.

Jasmine: We speak English at my house, and I can’t read it.

Seaborne: (Glancing at the envelope): I don’t speak French, but I can read it.

Seaborne: (Handing both clipboards back out to Rosa through the car window) Thank you, ladies, this may be extremely helpful to our investigation!

Jasmine: Thank you, Mr. Seaborne, Thank you, Mr. Roach! I’ll get your cookies from the car.

Rosa: All together, your two orders come to ten dollars, even.

Seaborne hands her a neatly folded ten-dollar bill, which smells faintly of gardenias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The girls failed to mention Miss Veronica’s shoplifting habit, Mr. Bradley's cheating on his taxes, or the Miller boy’s pirating movies: but not everything is obvious from the front porch. At least they might remember to call the SPCA?  
> And, Yes, that IS the client’s ten-dollar bill.


	6. The Big One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a light-hearted fantasy in which we get to see everyone, in and out of uniform, do the right thing. Except for the bad guys: we don't see them, but they're going to jail.

Six: The Big One

A short while later, same day, same car, same street. The girls have left, and the station wagon has moved on to a different neighborhood.

Inside the Chevy El Camino, Roach is eating Thin Mints and sipping what’s left of his hot tea.

Seaborne is speaking with someone on his flip-phone.

Seaborne: That’s right, absolutely no evidence of any kind of cheating, illegal activity, or underhanded dealings of any sort. …Thorough investigation… Quite above-board and by the book… That’s right. …I’m glad we could help put your mind at ease. …No, ma’am, no further expenses. …Any time, you know where to find us. ...No, Thank YOU. (He hangs up, and closes his phone).

Roach: I think that this case has reached a satisfactory conclusion. Time to open our next investigation.

Seaborne puts his phone away and pulls out the mysterious letter from the big corner house.

R: So, what does it say?

S: It is written completely in French, just as I suspected.

Seaborne reads the writing on the envelope first, translating out loud for Roach: “For the two detectives in your car on my street today, for your help, urgently, please, this is not a joke.”

Roach puts down his tea and his box of cookies, and fishes his own flip-phone out of his pocket.

S: That doesn’t sound like anything good.

Seaborne takes out a pocket knife and a cloth handkerchief. He slits open the envelope with his knife, and carefully uses his handkerchief to extract and unfold the letter without leaving any fingerprints.

R: This could be bad. Go ahead, and read it, I’ve got the Sheriff on speed-dial, just in case it turns out to be what it sounds like.

Seaborne reads and translates. He keeps reading with a steady voice, but his hands start to shake:

“I am Angeline, having eleven years, from the beautiful country of Haiti, until three years ago.

Hello, detectives, the two good men in the classic car, this is for you because maybe you are the ones who can help me.

I think you must work for the police because I see you watching people from your car just like the police detectives on television.  
You even look like television detectives, but your car is very much more beautiful, so I hope that it will never crash or get exploded like they do on television.

I watch the television to learn the english but I am very sorry I have still not learned the english. I wish to go to school to learn the english and the maths and the philosophy and to make friends, but they do not let me go to school which is not how they promised me when they took me here to this very pretty place away from my home at the orphanage in my own country.  
I would like to walk outside, but my shoes are too small. Maybe I can go outside again in the summer.

I have to stay here and watch their sweet baby, who I love.  
I watch the baby, and the grandmother watches me, always frowning.  
I have to stay here and clean the house, which is very large, even the bathrooms, which I do not love.

The grandmother teaches me, instead of the english, because she does not have the good english, how to sew and how to cook, which I would love better if I did not feel so hungry always. But the food is stored with a key.  
Perhaps you can help her also. Truly, the grandmother is not their old mother, she works for them like I do. They do not respect her, and she is very afraid always. For this reason, I think, she never smiles. Every night, I hear her talking to a very old photograph of her own children, in her own language that I do not know.

There is not a telephone here, except what they carry with them.

I watch the television while I am working and even while I take care of him, the baby, and I also watch all of the world from the windows, and so I have seen you there, and I hope you can help me.

You look intelligent and sympathetic, I think, so perhaps you can understand my language even if I do not know yours.

I used to have my own passport and other papers but they have put them away somewhere safe.

They will tell everyone that they are my parents but they are not. They have three other children here who are not allowed to talk to me, and they are always afraid also like the grandmother.  
I think maybe they should not have been allowed to have any children, but I wonder, what will happen with the sweet baby if I leave.

This is not a joke, so please do not show them this letter, or they will punish me and afterwards they will lock me in that room again. Please.

Thank you a thousand times.  
Sincerely, Angeline”

Roach does not wait to the very end before calling the Sheriff. He is already speaking on his flip-phone by the time Seaborne is reading the letter’s closing words.

R: Hello, Sheriff? Roach here, with Seaborne. We’ve got something serious here, a child in danger, it might involve the FBI, or at least the CPS. You need to come to South Main and Magnolia right away, and bring backup. It’s the house on the North-East corner: the big one.  
Possible human trafficking, child abuse, illegal working conditions, at least one minor being exploited. We’re parked on Magnolia, and we’ll stay right here and keep an eye on the place.  
Yes, that’s the same neighborhood.  
No, the girls are doing fine; We spoke with them; They just left.  
No,They’re not involved, but it is something they brought to our attention at a residence here.  
I don’t think the perpetrators are currently on-site, so now is the best time for you to move in.  
Three cars? Excellent.  
Here, Seaborne’s got the victim’s statement, he can translate it for you.  
French. That’s right. Here.

Roach hands Seaborne his phone, and gazes out the window towards the big corner house. As Seaborne speaks into the telephone, Roach takes off his glasses and wipes both eyes at once, leaving his hand there a long while.

S: (to the Sheriff). On your way? Good. Yes, sir, it’s a letter hand-written in French.

“I am Angeline, having eleven years, from the beautiful country of Haiti, until three years ago. Hello, detectives, the two good men in the classic car, this is for you because maybe you are the ones who can help me…”

The Chevy El Camino stays in its spot under the shade-trees, as dusk settles in on the quiet, upscale residential street. The loudest sounds are frogs, cicadas, evening birds, quite a few dogs barking, and maybe a cat. The street-lights flicker on, as do some of the houses’ interior lights.

Suddenly, three police cars pull up around the house on the corner, the big one. Their lights are flashing but the sirens are off. Two female police officers in uniform approach the imposing front door, while the Sheriff gets out of a different car and waves at the El Camino. Seaborne and Roach get out of their car and walk up to the Sheriff. They throw their arms over one another’s shoulders in a three-man huddle, and talk together quietly.

Meanwhile, someone answers the door: it is a dark, thin, barefooted girl. She embraces the more matronly-looking officer, then beckons them inside. Some of the police enter the house, while others wrap a blanket around the girl’s shoulders and lead her to the back of a squad car.

THE END 

 

Know What You Know (TM) PSA:

If you, or someone you know, is suffering from exploitation or abuse, please contact someone for help right away!

USA or Canada

[Childhelp hotline](https://www.childhelp.org/hotline/)

USA

[human trafficking hotline](http://humantraffickinghotline.org/report-trafficking)

Canada

[RCMP](http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/cycp-cpcj/ht-tp/index-eng.htm#what)

UK

[what-you-can-do](https://www.nspcc.org.uk/what-you-can-do/report-abuse/)

[Report-human-trafficking](https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/immigration/trafficking/report-human-trafficking/)

Australia

[Get Help in Oz](https://www.sa.gov.au/topics/education-and-learning/health-wellbeing-and-special-needs/report-child-abuse/report-child-abuse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know What You Know (TM) PSA: 
> 
> Also, please don’t hoard animals, shoplift, pirate movies, cheat on your taxes, or harbor unreasonable amounts of jealousy towards the achievements of other people’s grandchildren. The actual illegality of growing your own plant-based medical supplements may vary, based on your state, province, or country of residence.


End file.
